


Too Hard to Stay

by protectoroffaeries



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Cheating, Eloping, Extramarital Affairs, F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Love, M/M, Pregnancy, Running Away, Sass, Swearing, alex is an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectoroffaeries/pseuds/protectoroffaeries
Summary: John and Lafayette need to go.





	Too Hard to Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwritetrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritetrash/gifts).



“Does it not hurt?” Lafayette asks one night. John's leaning out the window of some shitty motel room, taking a drag from his blunt and trying not to set off any fire alarms. Laf’s sprawled out on top of the comforter. They're both waiting for men that shouldn't come to them, and if they're both no-shows, they'll probably sleep together. They've done it before.

John likes sleeping with Lafayette. It doesn't hurt his heart, doesn't make him feel guilty. It's comforting, even. But there's no spark of passion between them, not like there is between him and Alex. Nothing's ever like him and Alex.

“Does what hurt?” John asks. He looks down at his blunt, frowns. He's got to stop smoking this shit, if only because it reeks.

“Sleeping with Alexander despite knowing he doesn't love you,” Lafayette clarifies.

John snuffs out the end of his blunt before flicking it out the window. He doesn't turn to face Lafayette before answers, can't trust the expression on his face. “Yeah,” John admits lamely, because it hurts more than words can describe, but it's all he gets. John's used to dealing with whatever he gets, no matter how little.

“Does it hurt you, knowing that he's going home to Martha every night?” John turns around in time to catch Lafayette's shrug.

“I try to console myself with the thought that he loves me,” Lafayette says, “but if he really loved me enough, would he not leave her?”

John doesn't know. His arrangement with Alex is nothing like what Washington and Lafayette have. He knows Washington cares for Lafayette, but he can't pinpoint the depth or the capacity of that emotion.

“You ever think of running away together?” John says, but he realizes he's been too vague when Lafayette doesn't answer immediately.

“With George?” he asks, “Or with you?”

He meant with Washington, of course. He was thinking about running away with Alex, like he always is, except Alex has three kids and fourth on the way. They'll never run. And Washington won't run with Lafayette for the same reason; his stepdaughters may be grown, but in Washington's eyes, they'll always be the little girls who need him. And he can't be there for them if Martha shuts him out forever.

There's no passion between him and Lafayette, but there is comfort. They've been friends for a long time, since long before they got themselves into these messes. Could they be comfortable together, somewhere else, without the heartache of being side pieces for the men they actually love? Would that be any better than what they're doing now?

“With either of us?” John hedges.

“I think about both,” Lafayette says, which surprises John, for some reason. It's been a long time since he's really given much thought to anyone besides Alex.

“Really?”

“I like you, John. You have always been a good friend to me. Were I not so close to Peggy, I would say you were my closest friend,” Lafayette says frankly. Leave it to Lafayette to speak so casually on such a serious topic.

“But you don't love me,” John points out.

“Not as a lover,” Lafayette says, “but I could. Given time and distance, I know that I could. But I also know that you are not me, and that you gave Alexander your heart when we were very young.”

“Is that why you haven't suggested this before?” John asks, but all Lafayette can give him is a shrug, so John changes the question. “Where do we go, when you think about it?”

“Paris. My father's estate.”

John smiles a bit at that, “Isn't it your estate?”

“Technically, but I have never lived there.”

John opens his mouth to ask another question, but his phone vibrates, so he fishes it out of his pocket instead. There's a message from Alex: _just gotta put pip to bed, be there in abt 20_

“Show or no show?” asks Lafayette mildly.

“Twenty minutes,” John answers, and Lafayette nods a little. John surprises himself by asking, “When's the next flight to Paris out of BWI?”

Lafayette looks at him, truly shocked, but then he's fumbling with his phone, cursing at it in French, and he says, “Two hours from now. There is still room on the flight, but the tickets are extremely expensive.”

“We can afford them,” John says quietly.

Lafayette's phone beeps. “George will be here in thirty minutes,” he announces, looking genuinely pained by the message. “John, we could decide this later, perhaps?”

“I can't promise to love you,” says John, and he has no fucking idea where the words are coming from, “but I won't cheat on you. I'll always be there for you. I won't put anyone else above you.”

John can tell by the conflicted look on Lafayette's face that's what he wants. He wants someone to prioritize him and his needs. John wants that, too, and they're never going to get it if they stay in this shit motel and wait for their shit lovers.

“Please, Laf,” John begs, and suddenly Lafayette's hopping off the bed, crowding John against one of the walls, and then he's kissing John. _Yes, yes, they can do this, they can be together._

“We need to leave now,” Lafayette says, breaking the kiss. “We can probably run by both of our apartments quickly, but we will have to have most of our things shipped. _Mon am-amour,”_ Laf trips over the phrase, which is a pretty accurate description of their relationship right now. Are they friends or lovers or somewhere in between? Who the fuck knows. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“If you're sure, I am.”

“We have to leave them a message so that they do not report us as missing,” Lafayette says, and _shit,_ but John doesn't want to think about Alex, let alone talk to him. He feels something tighten in his chest; it feels remarkably like his heart is dying.

“Do we have to, uh, call them, or-?”

“We can leave a message with the front desk.”

“Uh,” John says, “this motel isn't exactly fancy enough for those kind of services.” He motions at the peeling wallpaper.

Lafayette goes over to his backpack and pulls out a thick wad of cash. “Any motel offers any service providing you are wealthy enough.”

John knows that, he's almost as wealthy as Laf, but he tries not to flaunt it. Lafayette, while not much of a braggart, feels none of the shame that John does tossing around money. To him, it's just part of life. Maybe John needs to work on that mentality.

They grab their things, which really just consist of backpacks with extra clothes, lube, and condoms, and then they leave the room they were sharing.

The receptionist can't be any older than eighteen, and she's yawning over some history textbook. John smiles a little, because Lafayette is probably about to make her day. And it's not like either of them will ever know if she follows through with what they're asking, anyway.

“Miss,” Lafayette interrupts, and the tired teen peers up at them through half-closed eyelids.

“Yessir?” she mumbles. “Can I help you?”

Lafayette sets the wad of cash on the counter, and the girl's eyes widen. “Miss Kelli,” Laf says, glancing at her nametag, and John tries not laugh at the absolutely stunned look on her face, “there are two gentlemen that will be looking for us in about fifteen minutes.” John holds up his phone, which has a picture of Alex and a picture of Washington side-by-side, so that she'll recognize them when they come in.

“Uh-huh,” Kelli says.

“If you would be so kind as to tell them we're going to France and eloping,” John starts at that word,  _eloping,_ but he's not about to protest, “that would be greatly appreciated.” He pushes the wad of cash toward her. “Take this as compensation for your troubles, please.”

Kelli stares at the cash for a moment, like she's afraid it'll disappear or bite her or something, and then she snatches it off the counter and stuffs it in her pocket. “How much is that?” she asks, awed.

Lafayette shrugs. “Approximately five thousand dollars.”

 _“Holy fuck,”_ whispers Kelli.

John grins. “Good luck with school, Kelli,” he says, which feels a little lame next to his fiancé giving her five thousand dollars, but he supposed the tip is from himself, too, anyway.

“Thank you, um, I’ll be sure to tell them. Just one thing - what are your names?”

“John and Lafayette,” John answers, motioning to himself and his fiancé in turn. Kelli nods and babbles out another couple of _thank yous,_ and then they have her check them out. Then they have to go.

They have a flight to catch.

***

Alex walks up to the receptionist, a cute blonde chick who's a bit young for him, and leans against the front desk. She's obviously on a personal call, but Alex isn't bothered by it; he doesn't have all night, but he does have a couple of minutes.

“No, fuck, Emily, I am not shitting you- yes, I counted it. Well, I mean, it _could_ be counterfeit, but they looked like gazillionaires. Yes, I'm telling you, gay gazillionaires- _okay, okay,_ but they were at least millionaires,” the chick says into the phone. Alex wonders briefly what the hell she’s going on about, and then he decides he doesn't care.

 _what room r u in?_ he texts John. Usually, on nights like this, John texts back right away, so after a couple minutes pass with no response, Alex starts to get antsy. He gives the chick, who's still babbling away about some rich gay guys she saw on TV or some shit, a pointed look, and she rushes through saying goodbye to whoever’s on the other end.

“Em, Em, look, I gotta call you back, one of the- yes, yes one of those guys is here, and he already looks annoyed. Yeah, love you, too, bye.”

“One of those guys?” Alex repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah,” Kelli says, sounding nervous, and Alex really hopes _those guys_ isn't code for _creepy rapist type._ He's not even here to flirt with anyone; she's got no reason to worry about him. “You're one of the guys - I mean, you know the rich gazillionaires, right?”

“Uh, no?”

“John and Lafayette?”

“Oh. Wait. Yeah, they're friends of mine,” Alex says, and then he smiles, because it's just like Lafayette to leave a huge fucking tip. “You know what rooms they're in?”

“Uh, that's the thing,” says the chick, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. “They left.”

“What?”

“Yeah, uh, they said to tell you and some other guy that they're running off to Paris and eloping,” she admits. “Sorry about that.”

Alex stares at her, blank. John and Lafayette? _Running away together?_ “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess they were tired of being y'all’s other woman. Man.” She motions to the wedding ring on Alex's finger, the one Alex usually remembers to take off before showing up here.

“But… but John…”

“...finally developed some taste,” the chick supplies, and when Alex gives her a scathing look, she shrugs and says, “Hey, I'm a lesbian, not blind. Have you _seen_ that Lafayette guy?”

Alex is still trying to process how a whole portion of his life is suddenly collapsing when George Washington pushes open the front door of the motel and walks in.

“Oh, hey,” says the receptionist chick, “there's the other guy. Hey, Mister!” she shouts, waving him  
over to the desk.

“Alexander,” Washington says in acknowledgment. “Hello, Miss. He's not bothering you, is he?”

The chick pats one of her pockets and then decides, “No, he's not bothering me yet. Look, I, uh, have some bad news for you, but it's really great news for your wife. Um, John and Lafayette said to tell you that they're leaving the country to elope in France.”

“What?” says Washington, shock and hurt twisting his expression. Yeah, this probably sucks more for him than it does Alex. He loves Lafayette. Alex is just pissed that John didn't say something before breaking off their fuckbuddy arrangement.

“Yeah, it's pretty tragic,” says the chick, but she sounds almost giddy. How much did she say Lafayette gave her to tell them this? That fucking coward.

“How much did they give you to say that?” Alex growls, but the chick isn't intimidated at all. She gives him a flat look and crosses her arms over her chest.

“How much did they give you to cheat on your wife, asshole?” she snaps back.

“That's not-”

“I bet they left because they had like, Sugarland vibes. Like, they probably wanted someone they could cuddle with and shit. I'm not them, but I would fucking hate to only see the person I love in a shithole like this after the kiddies go to sleep.” She pauses. “And don't tell me y'all don't have kids to go with those wives you're fucking over.”

Alex wants to argue with her, but when he opens his mouth, no words come out.

“We understand,” says Washington diplomatically, although he still doesn't have control of the utter heartbreak written on his face. Alex is so glad he isn't in love with John, although he does already miss him. They were still close, after all. “Thank you for telling us; we'll leave you to study now.”

Washington grabs Alex's wrist and pretty much drags him out of the motel, but not before Alex hears the receptionist pick up her phone again and say, “This is going to be a great story for the kids, I swear to God-”

It's only Washington's grip on him that keeps Alex from going back in there and giving her a piece of his mind.

“Go home, son,” Washington says. “Sleep with your wife. Hug your kids. Put them out of your mind, alright?”

“You're just giving up? I thought you loved him!”

Washington gives him a long, measured look. “That's why I'm giving up, Alex.” He doesn't explain what the hell _that_ means before he gets into his car and leaves, though.

Alex doesn't take Washington's advice. He calls John three times on the way home, fuming as each one goes directly to voicemail. How the fuck could they do this? _After all their years of friendship?_

He storms into the house, which causes Eliza to jump up off the couch and shush him. Right. Three sleeping kids. “I thought you had a meeting?” she whispers when he plops down heavily on the couch.

“Cancelled,” Alex mutters, “in other news, apparently John and Lafayette are eloping in France.”

“Aww,” Eliza says, “that's sweet. We should send them a gift.”

“No!” Alex shouts, and Eliza gently smacks him on the shoulder for being too loud again. Lowering his voice, he adds, “They just left without telling anyone.”

“I'm sorry, but you can always go visit,” Eliza says, and then, “I'm sure they had their reasons for leaving.”

“Oh, yeah, they did,” Alex grumbles.

Eliza nods. “So it's true, then?”

Alex blinks at her. Could she know? She doesn't seem angry, but maybe this is some sort of trap? “What's true?”

“Lafayette was having an affair with George Washington, right? Peggy let it slip a few months ago.” She pauses. “It's interesting, though. I didn't know he and John had anything going on.”

“I didn't either,” Alex says sullenly.

“What do you mean? They didn't tell you they were dating?” Eliza says. _“Oh._ Alex, what if John was having an affair, too?”

“I don't think John would-”

Eliza looks down at him, her face startlingly blank. _Fuck._ Sometimes, Alex thinks he doesn't give her enough credit. “There was no meeting tonight, was there, Alexander?” she asks softly.

“No.”

Eliza sighs. Tears well up in her eyes, but they don't spill over, and she lays a hand over her stomach. She's six months pregnant, so the fact that she hasn't burst into tears already is kind of impressive. “How long?”

“Two years.”

Eliza gasps. Throws her hand over her mouth. “Get out,” she orders when she regains the ability to speak, “get out of my house.”

“My children-” he begins, standing up, but she slaps him, hard, right across the face.

“The courts can decide when you get to see them,” Eliza says, pointing toward the door. _“Get out.”_

Alex heads for the door, but right before he leaves, he glances back. Eliza's still not crying, but he thinks as soon as he leaves, she will be. “I'm going to send them a wedding gift,” is the last thing he hears Eliza say, “and a goddamn thank you card.”

 

 


End file.
